August 31, 2007 § 6 Comments
Situation: the lab I work in closes down. By this time I’ve got too used to working in the air-conditioner. In the regular heat of Delhi, I sulk. In the regular cold of Delhi I cower too. Anyway, that’s not the point.
The point is I decide to walk across the street, a bit of extra effort considering the horrible heat, braving all the smoke and smokers that cross my way (I’ve been seriously instructed, not in I’ll-dump-you-if-you-don’t-quit language, but less consequentially lethal terms), and find a place to seat my tiny tired ass in Barista, the every-man’s coffee shop. And boy! There’s just so much chaos in this world. In a place where you pay close to hundred bucks for a regular coffee (ok ..exaggerated by few rupees. I’m not too happy), you expect peace. And silence. And more women. Good looking. Preferably in skirts. Frills always appreciated. But that’s just not to be. For once, when did school kids, loud and rowdy, become that! There’s just no age of innocence circa 2007. They come in groups. Sexually balanced. Steroidal. And I realize those were well-spent thousand bucks for the noise-killing headphones!
God was watching. And listening. And pitied on me. At 10 o’ clock to me arrives this woman, probably in her late thirties, in a very short, short for an almost mid-life crisis experiencing female, white skirt. The dog’s day was here. I thought it was. And I was almost thinking surreal. She sat, and we were facing each other, still at 10 o’ clock. Our eyes met. She thought I’ll continue to work on my laptop. I liked the way she was thinking. She made no particular notice of her parted legs. And remember, the skirt was short. The legs were more on the plump side. Also on the fairer. I vaguely detected my reduced blink rate. And I knew Barista was going to make a fortune from me as long as that woman chose to stay! I think they did.
The party was cut short, however, by the arrival of her friend, not too pretty, but just sufficiently bulky to hide everything that was keeping me happy for a few minutes (Ok. Men ogle. We won’t change. They can’t reject us for our genetic inclination). Not too much to my dismay though. There were views on all o’ clocks.
*******A break here. I need to use the loo. The longer version of it.*******
Right. Ah. A stomachal release always helps. I feel lighter. And more equipped to see and hear, and see and hear what is not here.
I’ve kind of become a regular at this place now. And it’s a privilege at times. Like the people there ensure a smile when I enter. And I’m (mis)using the favour off late. At times I just stay. No drinks. No latte. No ice-cream shakes. No muffins. No sandwiches. Basically I’m there just for the air-conditioner. And women too. May be. Like the other day this woman, more of a girl actually, walked inside with me, and we both almost simultaneously ordered. While her hands searched her pockets for cash, I couldn’t help noticing this pair of stones she was wearing in her right hand. They looked good. And I said it. She took it well. I, rather too well. She nodded in thankful agreement to my likeness, and I knew I had at least ten minutes before her boyfriend would arrive (not presupposing. She was pretty, dressed well. She had to had one. And she did). I used my time. It was well spent. And I’m looking forward to her next sortie to the place. Next time, no more stones or any other physical milestone can escape my much overhyped sight!
Good daydreaming. I’m just patting myself. Humko maloom hai jannat ki haqeeqat, par dil ke behlaane ko Ghalib ye khyal achcha hai.
Right. So it’s evening now. Metaphorically. And literally. The single women have all left. It’s just few couples around. And the guys are personally making sure I don’t look at their girls, and write something down the next moment. I’m not scared of good thrashing. That doesn’t happen anymore. Not even in Bollywood. I (almost) actually want someone to come down and read this. Should be fun. But who cares. The world. Wicked. Self-interested. What does an IITian’s super effort in wording the world mean to them? Nothing. Vacuum. Sigh.
I need another coffee. A cigarette would do just as well. Better in fact. But not making this life any shorter is probably a wise thing to do.
I have a call from a friend. Plan to catch up. I just got another. She decided to cancel on me. Fair enough. The Lord Almighty checks that my plenty is limited. He thinks the woman in white was just about enough for my day. We’re even.
No. He wins. Always does.
No hard feelings. There is a tomorrow.
August 30, 2007 § 7 Comments
It’s never been easier to make people smile. My little universe is getting happier. And bigger. Lovelier.
August 16, 2007 § 13 Comments
This just happened to me. By just I mean few hours. I was walking on a not-so narrow paved channel between two academic blocks. There was this guy right ahead of me, somewhat turtle on his feet. I was accelerating, and a few seconds before I would have naturally passed him, I think the guy slowed even further. This elementary observation made me generalize the idea in case of similar events in future (you need to build logic for existence, and that requires a lot of deduction from everyday life), and I propose a theory (and not a hypothesis. I seem to learn a lot, and immediately from my experiences) that if you anticipate someone about to cross you on foot, you tend to lower your pace a bit, as a purely reflex action. He did it, and I knew right then that it has happened to me before. May be I’m slightly quicker in my walk. No I have regular sized legs, and while growing up, sprinting didn’t figure in the list of essentials in home education for me, and I was never chased by school goons (Forrest Gump was just a movie c’mon) to have crossed the fine line between walking and jogging for life. And for the few times I’ve been overhauled, I think I remember almost frowning at the faster man (never a woman I tell you. Thanks dear God) on the inside, carefully masking the (probably) condescending feeling of having been overwhelmed, by my perpetual half-smiles! Or may be, I’m just thinking a stupid lot again (I do that a lot you know). I must understand I’m no Michael Johnson of the pedestrian world. And I should learn to live with it.
Anyway, I move on to the next observation, which is perhaps equally weird in character as the first one. While talking to people, I believe most of us fix our gaze to the other person’s face. But can you nail the precise spot in the face? I think it’s the eyes. Apparently just one (can’t be both of ‘em. Visual physics deems that to be a physical impossibility). May be the lips. Or the neck. The hair may be. No that can’t be: the other person would get too self-conscious. I think it’s also the nose for some! I’m naturally not talking about some who steer clear of any visual contact with the speaker at all. That’s sad if you can’t do it I guess. Now whenever I try to think what I’m looking at in the person, almost always I manage to lose the thread of conversation (thank God women are dumb. You can be safe without listening to what they’ve to say, and still keep yourself happy doing what they hate us for – ogle)! It’s virtually impossible to both understand what’s being said and consciously keep your vision rooted to some part of the speaker’s anatomy. I think I get fuzzy in vain attempts to grid-compute both the activities and compile them for the brain to break them independently! Try doing that. I’ll stop blogging if you say you could do it! And I’m perfect at regular communication as long as I’m not thinking about the image being formed at my retina.
And I’ve noticed I get more comments on smaller posts. I’m greedy. I’ll stop here. Will write again soon.